


Fly

by SaffronClover



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-11
Updated: 2014-08-11
Packaged: 2018-02-12 16:18:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2116491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaffronClover/pseuds/SaffronClover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clover Trevelyan, a Spirit Healer in the Kirkwall Circle, finds herself in the middle of the Rite of Annulment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fly

It was the screams she heard first. The annoyance felt hot as it crept up her spine, but Clover refused to look away from the tome opened in front of her. The candle next to the book flickered as air passed through the library and washed over her. A spring of red hair fell in her line of sight, and she brushed it back by running pale fingers over her head.

It was not unusual to hear a scream or two from initiates learning their spells, but that was always contained in the practice hall where Enchanters were always present to assist. The Library was for research purposes, thus supposed to be quiet.

Clover heard another scream, and her patience had waned. She was tired, hungry, and irritable. She never had much patience for others, usually dismissing them to do her reading and practice. Over time she gained the reputation as more of a shut in, and that suited her just fine. The only people she ever associated with were her seniors, but the only person she enjoyed talking with was her mentor, Losbourne.

He had not been seen for close to three weeks now. Some of the Enchanters and many of the mages had been put in the dungeons under suspicion of rebellion or being a blood mage. Knight-Commander Meredith had been gaining power and with it paranoia over the last few years, and with it brought discontent within the Circle. The Templars were not unaffected, and it seemed like a great divide had been forming. Many of them had started becoming sympathizers, others joining Meredith’s side.

She knew the secret rendezvous many Mages and Templars were having. She heard the whispers, but did not care. They could all jump into the Ameranthian ocean for all she cared, as long as she was left to her research.

Clover was fifteen years of age when she came to the Gallows. Her parents had done a good job hiding her all the years, using their status and money to keep her at home, but after a time they were no longer able to keep her hidden. When she came to the Circle she was frightened; the stories were gruesome. Clover never wanted to hurt anyone, let alone set fire to a person. She knew she was not a danger, but the Templars who took her away would not listen.

That was where she met Losborne. He was in his middle age, she would have guessed in his forties. Tall, lean, and clean-shaven. He had the deep dark skin of a Rivaini, his eyes held a deep brown gleam, with wooden earrings in his lobes. He was the son of Hedge Mages, and was one himself until he was found and taken to the Gallows. He specialized in Creation magic, which was why Clover took to him.

He took her under his wing almost immediately and became a second father to her. As much of a self-described recluse she was, she had a love for the healing arts. Everything from potions and poultices, to setting broken bones, and stitching up wounds. She flourished under his care, and after her first year she passed her Harrowing. It was a terrifying experience, even at twenty years of age she would still wake up from the nightmares. She was never even allowed to talk about the experience, but if she could she would admit that she barely passed.

Clover gave an exasperated sigh as she sat back in her chair and looked up to the ceiling. She had been in the library nearly all day, and her stomach rumbled. _‘It may be time to get something to eat.’_ She thought to herself. As she closed her book she heard the most sickening sound. A gasp, and a sucking sound accompanied by metal scraping on… rock? No, that wasn’t right. Wood? No, no. No, she couldn’t place it. She looked around, but all around her were stacks of books and bookcases. She was in some of the deepest parts of the Library only one person was able to find her, and he was currently preoccupied with the dungeon bars.

Footsteps and the clanking of metal were the next things she heard, and her curiosity got the best of her. Taking her staff in hand she peered between sections in the bookcases to where she heard movement.

What she expected to see and what she saw were completely different: Two Templars, both with blood soaked swords and a mage sinking to the floor. He was young, holding his midsection, blood staining his robes and hands. Clovers eyes went wide and suppressed a scream with her hands. She could taste the bile in the back of her throat rising.

The two Templars looked at each other. “It’s late, but there may be more. ” One said to the other.

The second nodded, “I think I saw something over there.” And he pointed towards Clover’s area. The two split up one coming her direction. Clover panicked, looking around as if the books around her would tell her what to do. She looked down at the pile of books in front of her desk and crawled under it. The library keeper always chastised her for keeping so many books to herself, but at this moment she was thanking the Maker.

No sooner did she get under the desk did she hear someone begin to approach. Clover wanted to shut her eyes, to will the Templar away, but terror kept her eyes open. A hand was clasped over her mouth to keep her breathing from being too loud while the other clutched the sunburst necklace, which represented the Maker. She never bothered learning more than the rudimentary fire and ice spells which made her pass her classes, and at the moment she was cursing herself for not practicing more.

The steps were almost on top of her, and through the books she saw the gleaming leg plates of the Templar. He stopped directly in front of her desk, and paused for a moment. The bile in her throat was threatening to spill out, but she fought to keep her composure. Clover could hear the scraping of the sword being unsheathed from the scabbard, and she shut her eyes tightly.

“Bloody mages, such a fire hazard.” The ‘tss’ of a flame being put out, and more footsteps were heard but this time they were getting farther away. Clover finally opened her eyes when she realized the only thing greeting her was silence; the Templar was gone, as was his friend.

Slowly and cautiously she crept out from under the desk, toppling a pile of books along the way. When she looked around she noticed the candle, which was lighting her book, was now extinguished. Blood was mixed in with the creamy wax that ran down the side of the candlestick.

Carefully she crept around the corner and looked around. There was no sign of life anywhere. The boy was lying on the ground, blood staining the carpet red around him, his lifeless eyes staring up at the ceiling. She knelt beside him and a blue aura emitted from her hand. Nothing happened. With one hand she closed his eyes and said a small prayer to the Maker.

“Templars are killing mages now, wonderful.” She said dryly. “Okay, so lets look at the situation. Recently the Templars have gone crazy with power, but not so much they would be slaughtering us so freely. What on Thedas are they doing?” Had things gotten so bad that they enacted the Rite of Annulment? No, it was tense, and that was an end of the line solution. “However…” If it was the Rite of Annulment then she had to get out.

The Library was a second home to her, and she knew the shelves intimately. She took a couple precious moments to confiscate books and tomes that would be useful to her. _‘The demons and Templars won’t be needing these.’_ She thought to herself. Quickly stuffing a few about herbal lore and incantations, Clover marched to the doors of the Library and opened them slowly. The walk way was dark, only lit by a few sconces. However the night sky was lit up, smoke and fire billowed up from the city. She could hear fighting, screaming, spells being cast. Closing the door quickly she sucked in a deep breath.

The city had just finished healing from when the Quinari attacked, how was it going to fare now? More importantly, what was she going to do? She could make a break for it. She knew there were secret exits the Mages took to get out to the coast. She knew of a Mage in the city who was helping them get out, maybe she could contact him? No, in all this chaos he wouldn’t just be waiting.

First things first, she needed to see if Losborne was still around. She knew the location of the dungeon; everyone did. Slowly she opened the doors again and peeked out. The ground was littered with dead mages and Templars. Clover tried not to look at them, trying to keep from vomiting. Here and there she saw an abomination, her former colleagues who became desperate enough to strike a deal with demons.

The screams and the fighting in the distance were maddening; she had never seen so much slaughter in her life. Blood soaked the fringes of her skirt as she stepped over the bodies, and occasionally her steps made a ‘squish’ sound, leaving her unsure as to what she had stepped in. One misstep made her slip and fall in something wet. Clover looked at her hands, realizing they were covered in blood. Her eyes went wide in horror, and she tried desperately to wipe away the blood. The realization hit her that she was laying on a dead body.

The young mage screamed, and scurried back away from the body as quickly as she could. Her back hit a wall as she stared at the bloodbath in front of her. Tears streaked down her face and her whole body shook. The calm demeanor she started out with had faded completely.

“I think I heard something over there!” Came the call of a woman. Metal steps could be heard as plate armor hit the ground. Clover looked around, but this time there was no place to hide. The courtyard she was in was illuminated by pieces of burning wood and smoldering rubble.

Six Templars descended upon her; five taller and one shorter. The shorter drew her sword and pointed it at Clover. “Well, what do we have here?”

Clover pulled her hands up, shaking with unhidden fear. “P-Please, I’m no Maleficar. I would never hurt anyone. Don’t kill me, please.” Her words came out shaky, and more tears streamed down her cheeks. The Templar only laughed and raised her sword.

“Do you know how many have said that, only to turn into an abomination? We can’t trust you bloody mages.”

Clover shut her eyes tight as she waited for the blow, a sob escaping her mouth.

Instead of the sword striking, she felt the ground shake. “What in Andraste’s name…?” The female Templar said, but as the words left her mouth roots sprouted from the ground and entangled her legs. They began ripping the plate from her body. A dagger flew by and took the Templar in the chest, digging deep itself deeply into her exposed flesh.

Clover opened her eyes and watched as an elf glowing a blue hue, ran a hand through a Templar’s armor and into his chest with a crunch. The elf pulled his hand out, holding the still beating heart.

One by one people from behind her were emerging. A Dalish elf with short black hair, and the golden-haired apostate who was helping mages escape. An arrow whizzed by her head, striking a Templar in between the helm and the top of his chest piece. “Another one for me! How many have you got, Hawke?!”

As if to respond, a short, platinum headed woman ran forward, jumped and landed on the still standing female Templar. She pulled out the dagger, and with the other in hand slashed at her throat. Once the Templar was down she jumped off with a grin. “I think we’re tied!”

“You’re both idiots!” Boomed the voice of a red-headed guard. Shield in arm she bashed her foe on the chest, parrying his sword out of his hand and slashing at his throat. Blood gushed from him as he gripped at his throat, willing the blood to stop flowing.

As quickly as the battle had begun, it was now over. Clover felt a hand on her shoulder, and she screamed. Looking behind her she saw a raven-haired woman in Circle robes. This one she knew; Bethany Hawke. “Don’t be frightened, you’re safe now.”

“Careful, she could be an abomination.” Said the Elvan warrior.

“Every mage is an abomination to you.” Retorted the golden-haired mage. “Remember who’s side you’re fighting for.”

The warrior glared at the mage. “The only side I’m fighting for is Hawke. Where she goes, I go.”

“I swear, you two fight like an old married couple.” The small woman flipped a dagger in her hands skillfully. “She’s hardly a blood mage. Just look at her, shaking like a Chantry mouse. She looks far more likely to drown us in tears than attempt to incinerate us.”

“We have to press on. The fight awaits us and I don’t know how much order Donnic can keep.” The guard stated.

The woman they called Hawke nodded and she looked directly into Clover’s blue eyes. “They’ve enacted the Rite of Annulment. You need to escape, get away from the city.” Despite the seriousness of her tone, she could see laughter in Hawke’s green eyes. Blood was splashed across her roguish face and it seemed not to phase her.

“I can’t, not yet. Not without my mentor.”

“I’m sorry, he’s most likely dead.” Bethany said, with sorrow on her face.

Clover shook her head. “He’s being held in the dungeons. I need to make sure before I go.”

Hawke sighed, “Fine, but you’re on your own.” With that she turned and walked away, the two elves and golden-haired mage behind her. The dwarf sheathed the crossbow on his back and followed suit. The guard hesitated, giving Clover a lingering look. She turned away and followed the group into the shadows, leaving Bethany and Clover behind.

“Maker guide you.” Bethany said. She gave Clover a squeeze on the shoulder and ran forward, leaving the ginger-haired mage behind.

Clover took a moment to compose herself. Was that the much talked about Campion of Kirkwall? She was… shorter than she imagined. Clover imagined a tall, muscled woman in plate armor with short dark hair. Not who she was just saved by.

At any rate, she had a mission to fulfill. Hopefully the Champion and her companions carved a path for her.

Eventually Clover made her way to the dungeon. The large metal door lay to the side in a twisted mockery of what it once was. Something powerful had forced its way through. Slowly she made her way down the stairway into the dungeon, peeking around the corner. Luckily Clover never had a reason to be there, but there wasn’t much to it. A large room with cells, a table where the guard would be posted, only now it was a burnt heap with a Templar body splayed out on the ground. Blood covered the walls, and she was sure it was his.

Some of the cells had their doors ripped off, much like the entrance at the top. Cautiously she stepped over the body of the Templar, not caring about getting more blood on her; she was already caked with it.

“H-Hello? Is anyone here?” She said nervously, an echo answering her.

For a moment there was silence. Her heart began to beat faster, thinking the worst had happened. She could hear one of the doors rattle, and a hand materialized out of the small hole in the top of it. “Clover? Child, is that you?” Came a deeply accented voice.

“Losborne!” She practically yelled. Picking up the front of her robes she dashed over to the door and looked in. She saw his dark face smiling at her.

“Oh thank the Maker you’re alright. Child, what are you doing here? You should be getting out of the city.”

“I couldn’t leave without you. Without knowing what happened to you.” She searched around for any sort of key.

“The Maleficarum came and freed their friends. They slaughtered the guard, and left me in here when I did not agree to join them.”

Clover was hunched over the Templar, using all her strength to turn him over. On his side was a loop with a single key on it, and she pulled it off. “Losborne, Meredith has gone crazy. She’s enacted the Rite of Annulment.” She unlocked the cell and Losborne slowly emerged.

His eyes were wide in surprise. “Maker, no. I knew something was happening, but I didn’t think anyone would be crazy enough to kill all the mages. They tried this years ago when the Ferelden Circle became infested with abominations, but the Warden-Commander and her team were able to rid the tower and save some mages.” He looked grimly at Clover. “We won’t be so lucky. Let us get out of here.”

Losborne briskly walked to a locked cabinet and held his finger to the keyhole. A small buzzing sound could be heard, and the metal became red hot, quickly melting away. He opened it and grabbed from inside an ornate staff. It was made of white Weirwood, smooth and polished. At the top it became an Eagle claw, clutching a purple stone. When he grabbed it, the stone came alive, giving off a dull purple hue. This was the staff that had been passed down Losborne’s family for generations. When the head of the family died, it would be passed down to the first-born mage, thus something Losborne received from his father when he died.

“Come, child, we have to escape, and there is much you need to know.” Clover nodded and followed behind him. “Over the last few years there has been an underground resistance in the Circle gathering. Much of it made of disgruntled mages, and Mage sympathizers. That included Templars, apostates, and family of mages. Your family has been supplying resources to get young mages out for years.”

Clover stopped in her tracks. “What? Why would they be doing that?”

Losborne kept walking, “They wanted you out before any fighting started. Keep up!”

Clover resumed her march with her mentor. “I haven’t heard from them in years. They stopped writing to me long ago.”

“Only because they did not want to be suspected as accomplices. I update them on your status as much as I can get letters out. By the way, your brother and his wife are about to have a child and your parents say you need to get more sun.”

Clover looked down at the floor. “That sounds like something they would say…” She hesitated. “I’m glad Fergus found someone who didn’t think he was such an insufferable prig.” Losborne laughed.

When Clover looked up, she saw they were near the gates of the Gallows. “Where are you taking us? These gates are sealed.”

Losborne knelt down and started feeling around on the cobblestone ground. His fingers began to dig in between the rocks.

“Losborne?”

He pulled a rock up, and onto its side. A switch could be heard and a section of the rock big enough for one person to fit opened up. “There is an underground tunnel that will lead us to the old sewers of Kirkwall. It’s an old Lyrium smuggling route that we have been using to get information in and out of the city. This will be our escape route.” He turned to Clover. “Ladies first.”

She swallowed nervously as she looked into the dark abyss below her. “How deep does it go?”

“Not far, maybe a couple yards, just don’t look down.”

She picked up her skirt and put a foot in. Clover felt around and her foot found a step. Carefully she felt around with the other, and placed it on another step, slowly she eased herself in and looked pleadingly up to Losborne.

“Don’t be frightened, child, I’m here.” He kissed her forehead endearingly, much like her own father did right before she went to bed as a child. This managed to give her courage, and she continued to descend.

Her head was almost submerged underground when the footsteps were heard. Both of them looked over to where the sound was coming from, and three mages stood there. Losborne’s calm demeanor turned sour as she scowled at the new arrivals.

“Well well, looks like someone let you out of your cage.”

Losborne stood up, and hit the butt of his staff on the ground. “You are a disgrace to mages! You’re the reason we are locked up in this place, Maleficarum.”

“Oh, such hurtful words.” The mage said mockingly, the other two snickering behind him. “Well we intend to use that passage, so would you kindly step out of the way so we can get out?”

Losborne did not budge. “No. May the Templars run you through, and your corpses left to rot here.”

The mage lost his amused demeanor. “Look, old man, we don’t want to harm any of our own. Let us out or we will carve our way through you and your little apprentice.”

Losborne looked down at Clover, sadness in his eyes. He pointed the butt of his staff at her, urging Clover to take it. Hesitantly she did, and pulled it in with her. He turned back his attention to the three mages. “I will not let you leave.”

“Fine.” Without warning the first of the mages shot a bolt of fire at Losborne, but the elder mage placed a ward around himself, and the flames split sideways around both he and Clover.

Clover shielded herself with her free hand, and when the fire stopped she looked up. Sweat was dripping down Losborne’s face.

“Do it.” The lead mage said to one of his companions. The other complied pulled out a dagger, slitting his wrist and allowing blood to drip. He pointed with both hands at Losborne, lava erupting from him. Clover’s mentor shielded the blast again, this time using more energy than he would have liked. The boys were completely inexperienced compared to the Enchanter, but blood magic was strong, and Losborne was weak from his time spent in the dungeon.

            When the attack stopped, Losborne brought a hand up, pointing his finger to the stone awning above them. A small red orb appeared, and he placed it in his mouth, swallowing. Clovers eyes went wide in acknowledgment as he turned to her. His face had a forced, sad smile. He raised a hand in the air, palm facing down. “I wanted you to know, you were the child I always wished to have. I’m proud of you, Clover.” Before she could give out a word of protest Losborne slammed his hand down, and with it she went.

            Clover hit the ground hard, the staff clattering beside her, and heard stone slamming against stone. She scrambled back up the stairs and pushed hard against the closed trap door. Tears were streaming down her face once more as she pushed with all her might. “No! Losborne you can’t do this!”

            She felt the ground shake and a giant explosion from above her; Losborne had made himself a human bomb, destroying the blood mages, and crumbling the stone canopy above them. She lost grip again and landed on the hard ground below knocking the wind out of her.

For a moment she gasped like a fish out of water, willing the air back in her lungs. She drew her knees into her chest, a fist slamming angrily into the ground as she sobbed. Losborne had been there for her every step of the way. When she arrived to the Circle, he had picked her out of all the new arrivals. He took her under his wing, cared for her. He sheltered her from every bad thing the Circle had. He was the one who protected her from the Templars, and told her to keep her nose in the books, and to keep learning. When people scoffed at her love for the Creation school, he was the one who reassured her that one day she would benefit from it.

He was her rock, her assurance that everything was going to be okay. And now he was gone.

Hours passed as she lied there, grieving her old mentor. _‘No, he would not want me acting a fool child. He’d want me to push on.’_

After a while she sat up and looked at her surroundings. Makeshift sconces in the walls dimly lighted the cavern, while ferns and mushrooms grew in abundance. A small path wove its way through the flora, most likely made over time by foot traffic.

Clover wiped the snot and tears away with her sleeve, and shouldered her knapsack. She picked up Losborne’s weirwood staff and started on. The low hue of the crystal made it easy for her to navigate through poorly lit areas. Here and there she saw bones, human ones, left for time to rot. Occasionally she spied the empty carcass of giant spiders, and it sent a chill over her spine. She prayed a silent prayer to the Maker, that she not encounter any of on her path.

Soon she saw blood smeared on the walls, and it was still wet. Her blood went cold as she held the staff up defensibly. She took slow steps, making sure no one heard her. If there was an enemy she wanted to make sure she was the first to attack.

It was no enemy, however. Leaned against a wall was a young Dalish boy, looking no older than ten? She wasn’t fooled however; the Dalish were small by nature, so he could be as old as mid twenties. He had mousey hair, which was long and shaggy, nearly in his eyes. His breathing was ragged, and he was holding his left shoulder. Blood caked his robes, and his hand was sticky with gore. His eyes fluttered open only a little, and he spied Clover.

“Do-Don’t come near. I can kill you, blood mage.” He attempted to hold his staff up with his other arm, but it barely budged.

Clover sighed and kneeled down to him. “I am no blood mage. I am a healer though. Let me take a look at that.” The elf tried to protest, but was too weak from blood loss. She pulled his hand away to reveal a clean wound, most likely from a run in with a Templar. “You’re lucky you’re still alive.”

He closed his eyes and rested his head back. Sweat beaded across his forehead, and streaked down his face.

“Hold still, this will only take a moment.” She held a hand over his wound, and a blue light appeared. Blue tendrils poured out and into the wound. A wet, sloppy sound could be heard and the elf winced. Soon the wound stitched up, as if nothing had passed through him. His breathing was still weak, but not as bad as it had been. Clover searched over his body to make sure nothing else was hurt. “Do you think you can walk?”

He opened his eyes as much as he could, and moved his head from side to side. Clover understood his wound was healed, but he lost too much blood. Had she not come when she did he would not have made it. She took off her pack and leaned him forward, placing the two loops around his own shoulders. She then pulled him up, and placed him on a large rock. Turning around she backed up to him, and slung his arms around her shoulders, and grabbing his legs with her arms.

“What are you doing?” He asked, weakly.

“I’m not about to leave you here to die.” Clover said. She was unable to save her mentor; she was not about to lose another.

Carefully the mage reached down and grabbed both their staves in both her hands. Now she prayed to the Maker and Andraste herself that they not run into anything down there. With the boy on her back she they would have no way of defending themselves.

Soon they came to steps leading upward, and with one hand she pushed aside a wooden covering over the hole. She looked around and saw she was in an underground area.

“Darktown.” The Dalish boy said.

Clover was taken by surprise, as this had been the first time he had said something to her since they started. “Excuse me?”

“We are in Darktown, from here we can escape to the coast. That’s where the rebel mages are hiding.” He said weakly.

“You know about this?”

“I used to run messages back and forth for the resistance.” He pointed forward. “Go that way.”

Clover bided his command and pressed onward. For the next hour she followed his instructions, stopping every once in a while to adjust him on her back. She was tall, but sickly thin, and not used to such physical labor. Soon they came out to a moonlit area, and the rotted smell of the city gave way to the pleasant scent of the ocean, something she had not enjoyed since she was small. She paused for a moment and let the sea air run through her ginger curls, and across her freckled face.

The moment passed, and she pressed on.

Soon they begun to hear chattering, and the smell of a bonfire hit their senses. Clover saw a group of both Templar and Mages sitting around a campfire, and stopped. Every one of them saw her and the conversations paused. Clover had forgotten she was covered in dirt and blood; she must have been a sight to see.

One unhelmed Templar pulled out his sword and pointed it at her. “Who are you?”

Clover swallowed hard. “My name is Clover Trevelyan. I managed to escape from the city.”

A Dalish mage stood up, her long brown hair pinned up into a bun. “Ghael?” She asked. The boy on her back looked up and managed a small smile.

“Hello, Merreh.” Completely forgetting Clover, the woman ran up to the boy on her back and began to pull him off.

“We thought we lost you in the fight! We thought you were dead!” She began to look over him. “Oh Creators, you’re covered in blood!”

He gave a weak grin. “It’s all mine, but this mage healed my wound.”

The group seemed to remember Clover again and turned their attention to her.

“Ah, yes. I found him in the tunnel and couldn’t leave him. I’ve healed his wound, but he has lost a lot of blood. He will need much rest before he’s able to do much of anything.”

The young girl stood and hugged Clover tightly. “Thank you, Messer, for saving my brother. I thought he was dead.”

Clover was taken aback. She was never used to physical touch, and for a moment just stood there. Soon the girl named Merreh went back to doting on her brother, and Clover turned to the group.

The Templar sheathed his sword and approached Clover. “Are you a Spirit Healer?”

“Yes, I am. My mentor-“ She paused, choking back the tears. “…He is-was-a Spirit Healer too.”

The Templar put his hand on her shoulder and nodded. “Will you join us? We need someone of your talents. We have enough offense here, but not enough healers to help.”

“Help? With what?” She looked at him quizzically.

“There’s a war starting, and we want you on our side.”


End file.
